


No More Dying

by the_painless_moustache



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not going to let you die here, Stiles. I'm not. You are not going to die on me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Dying

**Author's Note:**

> This is an oldy but I finally finished and polished it up so HERE YA GO  
> If you think I missed any tags or you see any typos, don't hesitate to let me know!  
> (Also yes I KNOW everyone wanted a timestamp of [Unusual](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4331418) but I haven't found my groove for it yet. I'M SORRY.)

 Derek's hands are shaking so much, but he keeps them as firmly pressed to Stiles' side as he can. "Eyes on me, eyes on me." he chants breathlessly. Stiles nods, keeps nodding even as he coughs out blood and winces because the pain is unbearable even though Derek is trying to take most of it.

 At some point, though, Derek stops being able to drain the pain. "Stiles. Stiles, eyes on me." he orders.

 Stiles looks like he has something to say, something on the tip of his tongue, and he's so eager to get it out but he can't. Derek presses hard enough against the wound that he croaks out a weak scream. The burst of pain reminds them both he's still alive. "Do you—do you remember when I was dying? The first time, after we met." Derek rushes out. Stiles nods limply. "I asked you if you were going to get sick at the sight of blood."

 Stiles laughs weakly, wincing. "'I might at...the sight...'"

 "'The sight of a chopped off arm.'" Derek finishes for him, nodding. "But you were going to do it anyway. You would've cut off my arm if it meant saving me."

 Stiles nods, his eyes dropping. Derek moves one hand off his side to drag his face back to his. "I'm not going to let you die here, Stiles. I'm not. You are not going to die on me."

 "Not...on...you." Stiles slurs.

 Derek laughs, because it's all he can do. He laughs because even though Stiles is dying—and he is, they both know it—he still manages to be a smartass. "See? So don't—just wait, okay? Scott will—Scott will help, okay?"

 Stiles opens his eyes again, they're sharpness almost shocking. "No." he says firmly, fear skittering across his face. "No, no, Derek, you can't—I can't—"

 "Hey, hey." Derek swipes a thumb across his cheek, smearing tears and blood over it. "It's not supposed to be like this." he tells him. "Not supposed to be how it was with Scott. I'll fix this all and then you can just—you can see the way it's _supposed_ to be. But you have to—you can't—"

 "Derek." Stiles hisses again, struggling to move. Derek shakes his head, but Stiles just grabs onto his neck with surprising force and grits his teeth to pull himself up the inch he does. "Derek, he _can't_." Stiles hisses.

 "Derek!"

 Derek sets him back on the ground, pressing both hands to his side again. "Here!" he shouts back, searching wildly for Scott. "We're here!" He spins again, eyes wide when he hears Stiles coughing. He shakes his head, giving up on holding the blood in at his side and instead cupping his face, turning him so he doesn't choke on the blood he's spitting up. "He's coming, Stiles. He's almost here. He's—Stiles. _Stiles_."

***

  _"Why don't you rebuild it?"_

_Derek sighs, making his head bob up and down on his stomach. Stiles turns to flick a clover at him. "Because I'm not sure what would be worse. Seeing it like this, or seeing it the way it was but having it empty."_

_Stiles hums, considering the burnt out wood and the leaves growing through the ceiling. "You could...you could always start from the ground up." he suggests carefully. When he gets the courage to look at Derek again, he's staring. "A fresh start, right?"_

_Derek's face relaxes into a sad but soft smile. "A fresh start."_

***

 "You should shower."

 Derek doesn't even look up from the floor. He's hunched over in a hospital chair, soot and smoke and blood all over him. But he can't hear Stiles' heartbeat anymore, hasn't been able to discern it from the other, louder ones. He's scared if he moves he'll never hear it again.

 "Derek."

 He flinches when a hand brushes over his shoulder. "This was my fault." he grits out. "This was—this is all my—"

 "Son."

 Derek looks up into the heavy eyes of the sheriff. He expects fury, disgust... _something_. There's only a soft understanding. "I'm so sorry." Derek breathes, swallowing thickly. "I'm _so_ _sorry_."

 "Take a shower at our place." John says, ignoring his words. "Try to get some sleep, if you can. I'll text you when I hear anything."

 There's no room for negotiation, so Derek uncurls himself from the chair and trudges outside. The cool air is like a slap in the face after everything. He stumbles over to a wall, grabbing at his shirt and wheezing.

 "Derek..."

 Derek's shoulder stiffen. "Don't. Walk away." he growls.

 "Derek, please."

 He turns and slams Scott into a wall, his blood boiling. "You could've saved him. We wouldn't even _be_ here if it weren't for you."

 "You're right, we wouldn't, because he'd already be dead." Scott snaps. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Derek. He can't take the Bite."

 "How do you even—"

 "Ever since the Nogitsune." Scott shoves him off, glaring at him. "I bit the Nogitsune to change the host, remember? But _Stiles_ was the host."

 "What are you saying?"

 "There's a piece of the Nogitsune left in him, Derek. If I bit him, he'd die. I couldn't have done anything."

 Derek grits his teeth. "You don't know that."

 "Do you think we'd be standing out here if I didn't? He's my best friend, my _brother_. If I thought I could've done something, I would've."

 "Deaton told us."

 Derek spins to look at Lydia. She's pale and her eyes are unfocussed, and it makes Derek nauseas because _that's_ the look she has when she's seeing something. Her eyes lift to his, still blank but not unseeing. "We went to him, after everything, and he told us that...that just like when they died, there was always going to be a piece left in him. Like a scar. Stiles knew, too."

 Stiles quiet words echo in his head, the panic and determination to get them out louder than his own heartbeat. He shakes them out and turns away. "Just call me if you hear anything."

***

  _"I'm not putting in a tire swing."_

_"But if you put in a tire swing, you can put in a pond. Oh! What about a pool?"_

_"Shut up." Derek laughs._

_Stiles glares over his shoulder at him, but it's hard to stay mad when he's all soft and smiley like this. He turns back to his rudimentary house plans. "Well, tire swing or not, you're having a fire pit."_

_Derek is oddly quiet behind him. Stiles looks at him and then flinches when he realizes what he's said. "Shit, fuck, I'm—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't even—forget it."_

_Derek takes a deep breath and sits up, pointing to a spot on the drawing. "Here."_

_"What about there?"_

_"That's where it should go."_

_"What?"_

_"The fire pit."_

_"Derek, I didn't—"_

_"It's where it used to be." Derek continues. "It's where my mom gathered the pack on full moons. We always had bonfires. We'd all get together and hang out and then at sunset we'd run. The humans in the pack would watch the fire until it died. They'd go in after that, and we'd come in at dawn."_

_Stiles leans back into him. "That sounds nice." he admits._

_"It was." Derek turns to him, smirking. "I think it could be again."_

***

 Derek wakes up embarrassingly naked and tangled into Stiles sheets. There's some rustling somewhere in the house so he sits up and listens carefully. By the slight mumbles and groans, it's probably the sheriff. He frees himself from the bed and grabs a pair of sweats before running down. "Sheriff?"

 He lifts tired eyes to Derek, blinking for a second before sighing. "Derek. Hey, sorry, I—I forgot you were here."

 "Stiles?" he prompts.

 The sheriff rubs a hand over his face. "Out of surgery, for now. Ten hours. Um...they have to go back in, but they didn't want to keep him under for so long."

 "But he's...he's okay?"

 The sheriff sighs again, shaking his head. "No. He's not. They're telling me that he's minutes away from being a lost cause at any moment. Right now we just have to wait and see."

 Derek swallows and nods, because he can't think of anything to say. Even the apologies on the tip of his tongue feel sour. The sheriff nods at him, like maybe he understands, and then he turns and walks away. Derek, for lack of anything better to do, goes back upstairs and hides under Stiles' covers.

 He wakes up later when the sheriff knocks on the door. "Derek, they're taking him back into surgery."

 Derek forces himself out of bed and goes back to the hospital. Scott and Melissa are already there, though Scott's changed clothes at least. They meet eyes and nod solemnly, and then they all settle down to wait.

 Derek spends the first few hours just trying to pick out Stiles' heartbeat, but he can't. Then he spends the next few trying to guess which doctor is having an affair with which nurse, but the game grows old quickly enough because it's a game he'd play if Stiles were sitting next to him.

 Scott stands at last. "I need a drink. Anyone else?"

 Melissa moves to sit on the sheriff's other side, shaking her head. The sheriff doesn't even respond.

 "I'll go." Derek mumbles, standing to follow. They walk down the hallways silently for awhile. Derek's well aware they aren't getting anything to drink, but he follows him anyway because the idea of being alone right now is too hard.

 "I should've been there." Scott says at last. "I was supposed to be there. That's the only reason—"

 "It would've been worse if any of us were there." Derek argues softly, even though he agrees. "They wouldn't have left until they were sure we were all dead. Especially him."

 "I'm sorry. For not listening to you. I didn't...I didn't think that this would happen."

 "I know you didn't."

 "Derek?"

 He looks over, stopping when he sees Scott's stopped. He's young for an alpha, but he almost never shows it. Now, however, he can see it. That Scott is just a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That he's scared, just like everyone else.

 "Derek, if he dies..." Scott forces out. "I—I don't think I can...not after Allison. I loved her, and losing her was like...was like losing part of me. But if I lose _him_..."

 "We're not going to." Derek says firmly, grabbing his shoulder. "Scott, we're _not_."

 "But we could." Scott argues. "We have to—we have to realize that, you know? We can't keep telling ourselves it'll be okay, because it might not be."

 Derek takes his hand back so he doesn't wring Scott's neck. "Then what do you want me to say, Scott?"

 Scott's face twists up. "I—I don't know."

 "You think losing him is going to be any easier for me? He's all I have. He's the only reason I'm even standing here right now."

 Scott nods, and Derek realizes they're both near tears. He sighs and pulls Scott into him. Scott clutches onto his shirt and sobs, and Derek just tries to remember how to breathe.

***

_"I still think it needs a tire swing."_

_Derek chuckles against his neck. "We'll talk about it."_

_Stiles smiles and looks over the house with an unearned sense of pride. He's done none of the work, but he helped lay it out and decide what paint colors went where. It's not his house, but it still feels a little like home._

_"I have a surprise for you." Derek murmurs to him. Stiles opens his mouth to ask what, but Derek's already slipping something into his hand. He looks down into his palm at the shiny new key. Derek's fingers are still curled around his wrist, safe and soft and warm. "For when you want it." he continues after a long pause. "If you want it."_

_Stiles turns around so fast he almost hits Derek's nose. But Derek's reflexes are thankfully faster. " **If** I want it? Of course I want it." he snaps. Or, he tries to, but it's really hard to sound angry when you're kissing someone._

***

 Scott and Derek both stand first, the smell of Stiles' blood fresh and stomach-churning. The doctor opens the doors looking tired as he scans the room for the sheriff. "Sheriff Stilinski," he greets, walking over.

 "Tell me." the sheriff orders as he stands. "Just tell me. Is he okay?"

 "He's okay."

 Melissa breaks into tears, Scott not far behind. The sheriff's eyes are shining, but he swallows and forces himself to keep focused. Derek puts a hand on his shoulder for support.

 "He'll need to stay in the hospital for a few weeks, I'm afraid. However, he should be out of ICU by next week. We'll be keeping him sedated to make sure nothing is compromised."

 "That's—that's fine. That's fine." the sheriff nods, wiping at his eyes. "He's gonna be fine."

 "He's in recovery right now. I'd say you can go in and see him in a few hours."

 "Thank you. Thank you, thank you..." the sheriff breaks into sobs, turning to huddle into Melissa and Scott's arms. Derek just stands back and breathes, grabbing at his chest where his heart is beating almost painfully. _O-kay, o-kay, o-kay_.

 He walks away from the group, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing.

 "This is Stiles. Yes, Stiles. If that name isn't the one you're looking for, try another number."

 Derek laughs a little when it beeps. "You'll never get a job with that as your answering message." he scolds. "I keep—I keep telling you that. I keep telling you to change it because what if your school calls and..." he trails off, wiping at his eyes. "You just got out of surgery. They told us you were going to be okay, and...and I've known for a long time now how I feel, but I've never been able to say it. I think you know, too, because whenever I think I should say it you always look at me like you know. You get things like that. You get _me_. I love that. I love _you_. So...so hurry up, okay? Hurry up so I can tell you myself."

***

  _He's not even supposed to be here. Derek told him not to come over, told him to stay away because if those psycho hunters were after the pack, the first place they'd go is here._

_Derek was right._

_Stiles can't feel most of his lower body, starting from the sword wound all the way to his toes. He can feel the holes in him, though. The heat of the fire burning around him makes them hurt all the more, all the ash and debris falling into them. He manages to drag himself a few feet towards the nearest door before the pain and smoke make him pass out._

_When he wakes up again, Derek is shouting at him. He blinks blearily, trying to remember how he got here, and why Derek's shouting. He doesn't remember much of anything, though his head and abdomen hurt something awful._

_Something stabs into his side, and he screams because if it. Or he tries, but his throat is raw. The pain clears his mind a little, though, and let's him hear Derek. "Do you—do you remember when I was dying? The first time, after we met." Stiles wants to laugh, but he can't, so he just nods. "I asked you if you were going to get sick at the sight of blood."_

_He manages a laugh this time, but it hurts "'I might at...'" he starts, struggling. "...the sight...'"_

_"'The sight of a chopped off arm.' But you were going to do it anyway. You would've cut off my arm if it meant saving me."_

_Stiles nods, because it's true. He probably can't count the amount of things he would do to keep Derek alive. Derek grabs his face and shakes him a little, looking stern and scared all at once. "I'm not going to let you die here, Stiles. I'm not. You are not going to die on me."_

_"Not...on...you." he forces out, trying for a grin._

_Derek's laugh is so weak and sad. Stiles wants to hug him, to tell him it'll be okay, because that's what he does. He reminds Derek that everything is okay. Derek's voice goes a little muffled for a minute, but he catches the tail end of it and it's like an electric shock. "No. No, no, Derek, you can't—I can't—" he rushes, his tongue tripping him up. But he has to tell him, Derek has to know. Scott can't bite him, he **can't**. Derek keeps speaking, but Stiles just grapples for him, trying to sit up. He finally manages to get a hold of his neck. "Derek, he **can't**." he spits between his teeth._

_The last thing he sees is Derek's terrified expression._

***

 "I expected flowers."

 Derek smiles. He can't help it. Maybe it's because it's the first words Stiles' has spoken in over a week. Maybe it's just because Stiles is alive to speak. Or maybe it's because, even though he's laying there bruised and broken and held together by string, Stiles still manages to be a smartass. "I'll get you some later." he says, moving forward to sit in the free chair next to him. Stiles hums and curls his fingers weakly around Derek's. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

 "You're right." Stiles agrees, lip twitching up. "Last time I took a look at myself I was a mess."

 Derek huffs a laugh over Stiles' fingers. They're still cold, unusually so, but he knows that just means the other parts of him are healing. "Don't do that anymore." he begs quietly.

 "Okay," Stiles agrees. "No more dying. You got it."

 Derek nods, pressing Stiles' palm to his cheek. "No more dying."

 They sit in silence for the longest time, but it's okay because Derek can hear his heartbeat again. It's just the same as before, a steady metronome that Derek uses to keep the time of his entire universe. Stiles drifts off at some point, but Derek stays and keeps breathing in the—mildly tainted but very much alive—smell of him.

 "Was he awake when you got here?" the sheriff wonders as he enters. Derek nods, smiling a little. "I just got my lunch break." the sheriff sighs, sitting on his son's other side and running a hand over his hair. "I can't stay long, but I wanted to see how he was after the big move."

 "Scott's on his way already. Melissa was with him when I got here, but she had to go back to work."

 "How'd he sound?"

 "Like himself." Derek smiles. "Tired, but definitely himself."

 Scott bursts in then, loud enough that he startles even Stiles out of sleep. Derek squeezes his fingers, centering him until the heart monitor stops chirping alarmingly. Then he turns and glares at Scott.

 "Sorry, I—I just—I heard you were awake. And, you know. Here."

 "S'okay." Stiles breathes, blinking a little. "It's just a lot quieter back in ICU."

 "Well, I'm sorry, but you are not allowed back there for the rest of your life." the sheriff tells him.

 Stiles snorts, and Scott takes that as his cue to rush over and hug him. Stiles groans a little, but he doesn't let Scott move back right away. "Hey, buddy."

 "So was it like a big nap or what?"

 "No dreams." Stiles says, fingers twisting in Derek's. "One minute I was with Derek and the next minute I was in ICU with Dad and a tube down my throat. Which, by the way, _not_ something I'd like to do again."

 "Remind me to return your birthday gift." Scott grins. Stiles rolls his eyes.

 "How do you feel?" the sheriff asks, leaning forward.

 "Tired, mostly. I mean, I hurt, but...I'm not dying, so I can't really complain."

 "That's a first." Derek mutters, chuckling when Stiles twists his hand free to flip him off.

 "You can eat by yourself, now." the sheriff tells him. "It's an all-liquid diet, but it's a step up."

 "Someone better liquefy me a cheeseburger." Stiles mutters. Derek grabs his hand again, smiling into it.

 John stays for his lunch hour and then leaves. Scott, however, stays and babbles until Stiles makes him stop so he can nap. Derek holds his hand the whole time, and he and Scott watch him drift off. Eventually Scott gets bored and leaves with the orders to text him if he's needed. Derek, however, couldn't possibly get bored. He can't imagine ever getting bored of watching Stiles' chest rise and fall peacefully, completely relaxed for the first time since Derek met him. He'd almost lost this.

 "Visiting hours are over." Melissa says quietly from the doorway, but it doesn't sound like she's going to make him leave. More like she's just passing the information.

 "We both know I'm not going anywhere." Derek says without looking away from Stiles.

 "It's my job to say you did, though." Melissa retorts. "You saved his life, you know."

 "I put it in danger." Derek reminds her softly.

 "Those hunters put him in danger." she argues. "And if he hears you blaming yourself, you're going to get hit."

 Derek smirks and nods. "That's why he's not going to hear it."

 "I want you to know how proud I am of you." Melissa says suddenly. It startles him enough that he turns away from staring at Stiles to look at her. "I didn't know you very well before the fire, or even after, but I've heard enough. I can't imagine seeing my home burn down for the second time and somehow managing to find the courage to still go in."

 Derek swallows. "It wasn't a choice I made."

 She smiles then. "No, it wasn't was it?"

 "I'm surprised you don't hate me." Derek blurts.

 "You've helped Scott more than anyone else ever could have. He's not the angel he likes to pretend to be, and he's certainly not always so easy to get along with. You were both in tough spots, but you still did the best you could to keep him alive. I can't ever thank you enough for that."

 Derek looks back at Stiles, squeezing his fingers. "I can't leave him." he says at last.

 "I know. I'll sign you out."

 The door clicks shut softly behind her.

***

 "You know, when I said I was worried about how it was going to look, I didn't mean I wanted you to spend all your time making out with it."

 Derek presses another soft kiss to the jagged line of white skin on Stiles' stomach. "Just reminding you that I think you're beautiful."

 "Handsome." Stiles corrects, but he's smiling with pink cheeks.

 "Gorgeous." Derek compromises, moving up to kiss a dark burn scar across his sternum before brushing a kiss across his neck. "Incredible."

 "Awesome." Stiles adds, raking his fingers through his hair. "Brilliant."

 "Too brilliant." Derek agrees with a huff, finally coming face to face with him. "Annoyingly brilliant."

 Stiles just grins.

 Derek spreads his hand across the scar on his stomach, runs his thumb along its edges and quietly adds _alive_ in his head. There's a solid roof above their head now, far away from the burned rubble. He and Stiles spent the months he couldn't move designing it and making it theirs. There's a tire swing creaking outside their window and pool water lapping gently against concrete in time with the wind.

 Derek can smell smoke from the earlier bonfire still, and for the first time in a long time it doesn't make him want to throw up because now it doesn't mingle with death but instead with the living scent of his pack.

 Stiles scratches his nails through Derek's beard, bringing him back with a soft smile. Derek leans down and kisses him. He can feel Stiles' heart beating against his chest, smiles at the way his own heart beats with it.

_O-kay. O-kay. O-kay._

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know I have a [tumblr](http://notthepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/)


End file.
